


Ladybird and Bluebell

by moonsmoocher



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsmoocher/pseuds/moonsmoocher
Summary: Marianne Edmund is a budding mechanic who finds herself swiftly wrapped up in the life of Hilda Goneril as they try to start a business making handmade jewelry.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Bluebell

“You gotta be fucking _kidding_ me!”

A frustrated scream boomed across the parking area, followed shortly by the sound of an engine struggling to fire, next to Golden Deer Veterinary Clinic and Adoption Center where Marianne Edmund volunteered on the weekends. Normally, she wouldn’t look twice at a stranger who was angry, but she hadn’t completely shaken off the customer service mantle that covered her shoulders and protected her on the weekends here. And really, the continued shouts edged closer and closer to crying. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey, um, problem with your car?” Marianne asked.

“Fucking piece of shit won’t _fucking_ start, and I’m gonna be late to the airport, and I… I… _Arrggh!!_ ”

Marianne flinched as the woman slammed her hands on the wheel, her beat up pink sedan (it was kind of ugly but in a charming way, Marianne thought) giving a weak _honk_ at the violence.

“If you want, I could… take a look under the hood?” she replied, trying to sound a bit more confident than she felt. She knew this woman’s anger wasn’t directed towards her, but Marianne was offering to put herself in the firing line.

“ _Please,_ I am at the end of my fucking rope,” the woman said, releasing the hood.

Marianne felt a little better with the hood lifted between her and the exasperated driver. From the sound, Marianne thought either she was low on fuel or maybe the battery was dead, but she wanted to take a quick look anyways. Cars weren’t her specialty. “Try to start it.”

The engine turned over once with a weak chug, whined, and died.

“Looks like your battery’s dry. I can jump you.”

Relief flooded the woman’s voice. “Could you?” she said, but Marianne was already walking to Dorte. She started the motorcycle, and wheeled it over to the ugly pink sedan, and connected the jump kit that lived in her sidecar.

“Okay, try now,” Marianne.

The engine turned over, and she heard the woman behind the hood give a long moan of relief. Marianne removed the cables and put down the hood.

“You’re a _lifesaver_ babe. I could fucking kiss you if I wasn’t gonna be late.”

Marianne felt herself flush at the compliment, turning to get a good look at the owner of the ugly pink sedan she just rescued. Her flush doubled in intensity. The owner of the ugly pink sedan was a gorgeous pink woman, with pink sunglasses and neon pink hair pulled into a thick ponytail that disappeared behind her seat. The upholstery was, to Marianne’s dawning horror, also pink.

“Just make sure to run the engine for a while, but if you’re going to the airport, it should be fine. Have a nice trip.”

Pink gave her a winning smile, wiggled her fingers on top of the steering wheel and popped a big bubble of bubblegum (also pink) as she screeched her ugly pink sedan out of the parking area. She noted with some level of respect that her license plate read _PNK4LIFE._

Marianne had trouble getting Pink out of her mind that week. Her dull life of attending machining classes in the evening and helping out around her uncle’s shop just couldn’t compare. She wondered if she’d ever see Pink again. She wasn’t a regular, at least on the weekend, as much as anyone could be considered a regular at a vet clinic. After a year of helping out, she knew a handful of pets by name, and also saw some animals from the adoption side of the building end up in her lobby, and she was _certain_ she’d remember someone like Pink.

Turns out, she had only had to wait a week to see Pink again. In the middle of her shift on the desk, a slow morning where Marianne had been free to help with paperwork instead of dealing with customers, the bell tinkled behind her.

“Oh, you’re here, what a surprise.”

Marianne whipped her head around to see Pink, with her pink sunglasses perched on her nose, wiggling her fingers in a wave. She had a black windbreaker, but under the zipper she could see hints of a pink top.

“Oh, hello again,” Marianne said, drawing upon the mantle of customer service, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“‘Kay,” Pink said, and popped her bubblegum.

Marianne quickly finished inputting an order before turning to Pink. “How can I help you today?”

“Marianne. That’s a pretty name,” Pink said, eyes glancing up from the badge clipped on her uniform.

“Oh, um. Thank you, I guess.”

“Hilda,” she said, offering her hand. Marianne took it. Her grip was clammy and strong.

“Pleased to meet you. Um, how can I help you, Hilda?”

She gave another of her winning smiles. “Picking up a cat for my roommate. Name’s Lorenz, with Claude Riegan.”

“Ah, yes. He’s ready. If you’d just sign this release, I’ll go and get Lorenz from the back.”

“‘Kay, thanks babe.”

She escaped to the back rooms, where their longer term patients are kept, hoping Pink—Hilda, she corrected herself—hoping Hilda didn’t see her own pink reflected on her cheeks.

“There you are, you little troublemaker. You’re gonna be out of our hair today,” Marianne cooed at Lorenz in his holding cell. Lorenz was a pretty British shorthair with a bad temper, though that was only to be expected after surgery. Lorenz meowed and swatted the bars. She hummed happily while she put Lorenz in the carrier. He might have had a bad temper, but Lorenz loved attention and that was all he needed to be compliant enough to transfer. “Now now, Lorenz, no more eating cables, okay? You’re a beautiful boy, but I don’t want to see you back here again.”

She returned to the lobby with Lorenz’s carrier under her arm, handing him off to Hilda, along with a copy of the bill and instructions for post-surgery care.

“Finally got you back, you little shit,” Hilda said affectionately, “Claude’s missed you. You’re gonna be in big trouble when he gets home tonight, mister.”

Marianne laughed at that, and Hilda looked up at her, grinning. “We give him a lot of hassle but he’s the apartment mascot. Place hasn’t felt the same without him underfoot.” Lorenz meowed. “Hey, thanks for the help last week. I’m sorry I yelled so much. Just felt like everything was going to shit.”

“Yes, you sounded _pretty_ distressed. Glad I was able to help,”said Marianne with a small smile.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the motorcycle kind of girl.”

“Dorte’s been in the family for years, I’m just his latest caretaker.”

“Dorte?” Hilda said, raising a dusty blonde eyebrow.

“My bike. My grandpa named him after a horse _his_ dad had,” Marianne explained.

“Now, _horse_ girl, that’s more your style.”

“Well, I did show jumping in high school,” Marianne admitted, turning to the side, bashful. She hadn’t been very good at it (or really anything) before she got her hands on a wrench.

“Ha! I knew it. You’re _such_ a horse girl,” Hilda paused for a moment, considering something, and then continued, “Listen, I gotta get Lorenz back to the apartment, but I was wondering if you would like to get a coffee or something. As thanks for last week.”

Normally, Marianne would refuse such a thing. It wasn’t professional, first off, and Marianne wasn’t exactly a social butterfly either. She liked to keep to herself and her projects. People were so much harder to deal with than animals and machines. But she didn’t see the harm in letting this pretty girl chat with her more. Marianne got this far by taking a chance. What’s one more?

“That… sounds nice, Hilda.”

“Tomorrow okay? After you get off work here?”

“Um, sure.”

“Cool, cool. Give me your hand, I’ll give you my number.”

“You can just write it down on some paper or something,” said Marianne, but she gave Hilda her hand anyway.

“This is more fun, though,” said Hilda. She pulled a pen (pink) out of her purse (also pink) and wrote it down on her hand. Marianne was half surprised to see the ink was just a normal black.

“Text me about half an hour before you’re free, I’ll come pick you up.”

“You’re making this sound like a date.”

“It could be,” Hilda says, lowering her gaze and her sunglasses, “if you want. Saw the flags on your badge.”

Marianne remembered the little lesbian pride flag she was allowed to stick on her badge, right next to the little trans pride flag. “I hardly know you.”

“We’ll change that,” Hilda said, turning to leave. “I’m still picking you up. My thanks, after all.”

“Um, I guess that’s fine.”

She popped her bubblegum when she opened the door, wiggling her fingers behind her. “See ya, babe.”

Marianne found it hard to concentrate the following day. She hardly had time to think a coherent thought that wasn’t immediately relevant to the steady stream of appointments and walk-ins, and the scant spare moments were filled with her upcoming coffee date (or whatever it was) with Hilda.

Eventually, she ended up texting Hilda that she’ll be ready, but she sent it fifteen minutes late on purpose so she could have some time to clean up better. Try to make herself presentable. Attempt to tame her mousey blue hair back into the heavy braid she wore. Marianne noted that she’d need to dye it again soon—her roots were coming in.

The heavy jeans and tank top she usually wore on her rides with Dorte to volunteer were stuffed in her work backpack. The leather jacket was always kept nice and well maintained, though. It was one of the only things she still had left of her dad. Under that, she had her favorite button up blouse, blood red. Finishing things off, her nicer pair of riding boots poking out of one of the handful of skirts she still had. This one was cream, and it went to her ankles. With not much opportunity to use them since starting evening classes, and she relished the feeling. Skirts were her favorite.

She waited with Dorte, trying to center herself, feeling a little caught up in the high emotions. It felt good, the rush of looking forward to companionship. She hadn’t had someone new in her life since meeting the kind lesbian couple that ran Golden Deer, Manuela and Judith. They took her under their wings after they came to her uncle’s shop with a busted alternator and spark plugs in the company van and she talked to them about eventually wanting to adopt a rescue when she had her own place.

“Hey there, Bluebell.”

Marianne started and nearly lost her balance. She hadn’t noticed Hilda’s ugly pink sedan pull up next to her.

“Oh, hello Hilda. I was lost in thought. Sorry.”

“No worries babe. All ready?” Hilda asked. Marianne nodded. “Cool, hop in.”

Marianne did so, tossing her backpack in the rear seat at Hilda’s instruction. The inside of the ugly pink sedan was… less pink than she was fearing. The upholstery on the seats were pink but everything else was mercifully boring automotive colors like _cool gray_ and _warm gray_ and even a daring _beige_ on the center console.

Hilda herself was wearing the black windbreaker from before, revealing a pink crop top underneath, and tight high waisted jeans that hugged her shapely legs. _Christ, she’s hot, I bet she’s got a great butt,_ Marianne thought, trying unsuccessfully to bury that particular thought deep enough so she could just enjoy… whatever this was.

“How do you feel about burgers?” Hilda asked.

“I could go for some burgers,” she replied. Marianne had no problems with burgers and, if she was being honest with herself, fast food was a treat she didn’t let herself have often. Also, such a low-stakes meal kept her mind off the recurring thought that this might just really be a date after all. Fast food was definitely not a date meal. No pressure.

“Cool, I know this gastropub downtown that has the _best_ burgers. You’re gonna love it.”

 _Oh no, this might actually be a date,_ Marianne thought.

They were seated in a booth at fancy gastropub, _Goneril Lodge,_ nestled just outside of the city center. Hilda had been very bubbly and friendly with Marianne. She talked about Lorenz, letting Marianne know that he’d gone back to being insufferably smug and refusing attention, then screaming at herself and Claude when they ignored him. Marianne felt better. Surgery on pets was not an easy recovery, but if this was his normal personality, that was wonderful. Marianne felt a little underdressed and overwhelmed and knew she wasn’t the best conversation partner, but if Hilda was ever annoyed, she didn’t let it show.

“Good evening, ladies. What can I get you?” their pretty redhead waitress asked.

“Two specials, strawberry shake for me and…” Hilda glanced at Marianne.

“Um, the house red is fine, thank you.”

“Lovely. Two salmon burger specials, one strawberry shake, and a glass of red wine. I’ll get that started, and I’ll be right back with your wine and some more water.” The waitress walked away. Marianne noted with some satisfaction that she had a cute butt.

“Cute girl, huh?” Hilda said after a moment.

Marianne felt her face heat up a little. “What? Oh, um, yes. She’s rather pretty.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you watching her leave, Marianne.”

“I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled, lowering her head.

“Hey, it’s cool. She’s got a nice ass under those jeans, be a shame to not appreciate it.”

“Hilda!” Marianne gasped.

“She’s got nothing on you though.”

Marianne went scarlet, and lowered her head even further. “Flatterer,” she said.

“What can I say? I’m weak to beautiful women,” said Hilda, adding after a beat “Which you are. Beautiful, I mean.”

Marianne’s head spun at the attention. There was a time in her life when she hated how she looked, but now, pushing on her late twenties, she felt more comfortable in her skin than ever. But she was never known as cute or pretty, let alone beautiful. Hormones could only do so much with her genes.

Hilda was content to be quiet until the pretty redhead returned with Marianne’s wine and a refill on their water.

“Um, I hope it’s okay I’m having something to drink,” said Marianne. It’s not often she had anything to drink, and when she did, wine was her drink of choice.

“Nah, it’s cool. I’d be joining you but, you know,” she said miming dangling her keys, “driving and all that.”

“So, I noticed you have a lot of… pink,” Marianne ventured.

“Yep. Part of this whole, image influencer thing I did in college that I kinda just stuck with. Branding myself or whatever. I do really like pink though. Just wouldn’t feel like myself if I wasn’t covered in it.”

“Where did you go for college?”

“Just the community college. Took some business classes, a little acting, even one semester where I did nothing but philosophy. That one was a mistake. What about you?”

“Oh, um, I’m taking some machining classes a few evenings a week, but that’s it.”

“Machining? Do you, like, make stuff?”

“It’s to help my uncle around the shop. He’s got a fabrication area that I am not allowed to touch until I have some certification, officially, but he lets me practice.”

“You do car stuff? Seemed pretty confident checking under my hood,” Hilda said, adding some eyebrow wiggles that made Marianne roll her eyes.

“Um, no, I’m more into bikes, but an engine is an engine. That’s my uncle’s deal, cars. I restored Dorte when my parents passed. Felt like the right thing to do, keep him in the family.”

Hilda just nodded, and they settled into an uneasy silence. Perhaps bringing up the death of her parents was not the smartest topic of conversation, Marianne thought bitterly. Just as the silence got to be almost too much to bear, Hilda said quietly, “Oh shit, I can’t believe he’s doing this to me,” and started rubbing the bridge of her nose.

A large man with short, dusty blonde hair and an apron delivered their food, “Two fish burgers, and one cute little strawberry shake, just like mama used to make.”

“Fuck _off,_ Holst,” said Hilda growled.

“Aww, am I not allowed to tease my baby sister on her date with _Bluebell?”_ the man, Holst apparently, said with a massive grin, before turning to Marianne and offering his hand. “Hey there, I’m your date’s big brother, Holst.”

“Um, Marianne.”

“So the mysterious Bluebell really does have a name. I thought Hil was making you up.”

“ _Holst,_ ” Hilda said, voice flat and icy.

“You’re the one who brought your new girlfriend to the family business, baby sis. You know as well as I do that means it’s open season on teasing your gay ass.”

“Fine, whatever, can we just eat in peace? Roast me later. Don’t you have grease traps to clean or whatever?”

“Sure thing, Hil. Meal’s on the house tonight, girls. Can’t say your big bro doesn’t do anything for ya,” Holst said, shooting a finger gun and a wink at Hilda as he retreated to the back of the restaurant.

“I’m going to kill him and I’m also going to kill Leonie for telling him I’m here,” Hilda said, returning to rub the bridge of her nose.

“So, um, Bluebell?” Marianne said, barely keeping her grin in check.

“Yeah. Told him this cute girl with blue hair—that’s you—this cute girl helped him get his sorry ass home from the airport last week because my piece of shit car died. That was before I knew your name. He called you _his blue belle._ ” Hilda said, adding a flourish to Holst’s epithet for Marianne, “I know, he’s an idiot. Name kinda just stuck in my head for the week, though.”

“Um, well if it’s any consolation, I called you Pink in my head for an entire week. You left quite an impression, after all.”

Hilda laughed at that. “I’ve been called worse things. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Holst is a bit of a jerk but he’s a damn fine chef.”

Hilda had been telling the truth. The salmon burger was excellent, and by the end of the evening, her head pleasantly buzzing through four glasses of wine and easy conversation—most of which went in one ear and slid smoothly out the other under the slick of wine—Marianne found herself nursing a crush on Hilda before long.

Hilda had been just a slight bit duplicitous when she said she _knew this gastropub downtown,_ as it was owned by her family, or at least this was the third branch of a _real_ Goneril Lodge. She loved her brother’s cooking, though, and the staff here knew to treat her like she’s just another customer and not _in the family._

True to Holst’s word, neither of them paid anything when they left.

“Um, like, I _definitely_ shouldn’t be riding tonight. Could you take me to my uncle’s shop? I’ll just get Dorte in the morning.”

“I think you should crash at my place, actually.”

“First date and you’re already bringing me home to meet the parents? You move fast, Hilda.”

“Har har, _Bluebell,_ ” Hilda said, opening the door for Marianne to get in her ugly pink sedan, “I told you, this isn’t a date unless you want it to be, and so far we’ve just had a nice evening together, okay?”

“But _Hildaaa,_ you’re so pretty. You’ve done nothing but flirt with me tonight and I haven’t gotten laid in, like, at _least_ five years.”

“Marianne,” Hilda said firmly, getting into the driver’s side, “you’re very nice, but you are also very drunk. Let's go sleep this off and I’ll bring you out to your bike in the morning.”

“He’s got a name,” Marianne said, fake offense dripping off her.

“I’ll apologize to Dorte later. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

Hilda and Claude’s apartment was in a fancier neighborhood (her uncle would say _bougie_ ) in a gated lot that had three separate keys—one for the gate, one for the building, and one for the room. Way fancier ( _bougie_ ) than the little condo she shared with her uncle. The apartment itself was a mix of cozy and sleek. Furniture that was used, like the couch and recliner, was on the cozy side, while the decorations kept up the appearance of contemporary detachment.

Marianne sat on Hilda’s couch, with Lorenz purring in her lap, She sent a text to her uncle that she was going to be out for the night.

“I can’t believe he likes you. Lorenz hates _everyone,_ ” Hilda said, sitting on the couch next to Marianne, handing her a glass of ice water.

“I’m good with animals. My boss Manuela says I’d have been a good vet, but I’m not so sure. She had to have attended a crazy amount of school and I can’t do that. I can barely pull off my evening classes.”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine. Seems like you’ve got your life together more than me,” said Hilda, adding a snort to the end.

Marianne felt indignant. “I most certainly do not,” she said.

“You’ve got a job, which is more than I can say,” Hilda replied.

“I volunteer at Golden Deer, thank you very much,” Marianne said, “and my uncle can’t really afford to pay me. Basically living off my parents’ life insurance.”

“I don’t want to turn this into a competition. Let’s just agree maybe we don’t have our shit as together as we’d like,” Hilda said.

Marianne bowed her head, looking at her ice water. “Um, sorry.”

Hilda sighed and said, “Hey, don’t be sorry. I don’t know about you but I’m getting pretty tired and I get cranky when I’m tired.”

“Yeah. I’m getting there myself.”

“You cool with the couch? I’ll grab some pillows and a blanket. I’d offer my bed, but…”

She wasn’t completely sober. Enough of the wine still soaked her gay little brain to feel like she could be forward. “Um, Hilda. You know how you said this wasn’t a date unless I wanted it to be?”

Hilda nodded her head slowly. “Yep,” she said, popping the _p._

Marianne finally lifted her gaze to look at Hilda. “I think I want it to be one now.”

“If you want to kiss me, you can just say so. I literally flirted with you for hours. It’d be pretty cruel of me to wind you up like that. But you’re not getting into my bed that easily, that’s like at _least_ fourth date territory.”

Marianne set her ice water down on the end table and scooted closer to Hilda on the other side of the couch. “So, you’re saying there’s gonna be more dates?”

“I mean, if you’re gonna be like this, I suppose you don’t leave me with much choice, _Bluebell._ ”

Marianne put one of her arms across Hilda to rest on her far shoulder. “Oh, and I want nothing more than to kiss you right now. You know, since I can just say so.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got a beautiful woman in my arms and I’m gay as hell, what’s a girl like me to do?”

“But you said—”

Marianne’s words were cut off by a gentle kiss from Hilda. Her lips were rough and cold from the ice water, and it sent a shiver down Marianne’s spine. “I think that’s what a girl like me is to do.”

“Oh, you are such a tease—”

The next kiss was heavier, Hilda’s lips lingering between Marianne’s, giving her time to savor the feeling. Her lips were firm, and Marianne could smell the strawberry shake she had on her breath. She wondered if her mouth still tastes like strawberries, or if she’d taste the salmon burger, or something else entirely. Marianne desperately wanted to know, letting her tongue run along Hilda’s lips. Hilda hummed happily, letting Marianne in, but she barely had time to taste anything before Hilda pulled away.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Bluebell.”

“Hilda…” Marianne whined.

“Just think of it this way, the next time we’ll be much more fresh. I don’t know about you, but my mouth is feeling _pretty_ gross. Like, I super need to brush my teeth.” Marianne shied away from Hilda, realizing her own situation was probably much the same. “Don’t get me wrong. That was, like, fucking great. I would _love_ to keep going, but I smelled my own breath and it just kind of killed the mood for me,” Hilda finished with a chuckle.

“So we can do more kissing later?” Marianne asked hopefully.

“Uhh… Yeah, but not tonight, ‘kay babe?” Hilda said, and shifted herself to get up, peeling Marianne’s hand off her shoulder. Lorenz gave a yowl and hopped off Marianne’s lap. She had forgotten he was there entirely. “I’ll get you those pillows and blankets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you just think "what if marianne talked to dorte the motorcycle while she was working on him" and then wake up with three chpaters of gay shit several days later
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am a gay.


	2. Scrambled Eggs and Coffee

Marianne woke with a splitting headache. She lifted her hands to her head to stop it from pulsing, and let out a grunt of pain as her stomach roiled.

“You awake in there?” an unfamiliar voice called from above her head. Marianne tried to reply but only gurgles and growls escaped her. Footsteps approached. “Got you some water. I can get Hilda up if you want.”

Marianne opened her eyes, which she quickly regretted, as the morning light coming in from the window felt like a drill in her eye sockets, then shook her head. More regret, as the pulsing came back in force.

“Guess you two had a good night,” the voice said with a chuckle. “I’m gonna make some scrambled eggs, you want some?”

She shook her head again, then thought better and nodded. At least the action of it was easier.

The voice retreated and Marianne tried to center herself. What was she _doing_ here at Hilda’s apartment? This wasn’t like her. Marianne kept people at arms length, only letting people important to her even try to approach; her uncle, Manuela and Judith, her parents… well, they had problems, what kid doesn’t with her parents, but they were finally starting to get along as a family when they passed.

Then she remembered how Pink had lived rent free in her head for a week, how charming and forward Hilda had been, how she acted like Marianne’s acceptance of this date was a given, her incessant flirting. Marianne liked the attention. Hilda had always given her a way out, which is perhaps why it was so easy to follow her lead. The two kisses last night had been wonderful, and Hilda had only given Marianne the clearance to do that. She had no doubt that if her brain had been less addled with wine and longing, nothing would have happened at all and Hilda wouldn’t have been disappointed.

But Marianne _would_ have been disappointed had she not taken these chances. Sure, this wasn’t like her, but she can’t say she minded the night. Except the hangover, that she could have done without.

The smell of butter and eggs drifted over her and her stomach stopped roiling as she realized she was actually very hungry. Marianne gingerly opened her eyes, blocking the window with her hand once she located it, and sat up, downing the entire glass of water the voice had left on the end table. She was grateful for the moisture, not realizing how dry her mouth was until it was fully coated in the slime that came with sleeping on her back. With some amount of embarrassment, she realized she had probably been snoring. Sleeping on her back always made her snore.

Marianne got up (almost tripping over the backpack at her feet) and wandered her way to where she remembered the bathroom was in the little hallway attached to the living space she slept in. Her legs and back were sore, and her neck had trouble turning left. That would make riding Dorte home a lot of trouble if she wasn’t able to loosen her muscles.

At the end of the little hallway were three doors. She couldn’t remember the one she used last night, and opened the middle one. It was… not the right one. Her eyes were assaulted with the most fiery pink comforter she had ever seen, among an assortment of pink decorations, pink clothes covering most of the floor and some of the bed. The comforter was half off the bed, leaving Hilda partially exposed. Apparently, she did not sleep with a top, but Marianne could not see much of Hilda’s exposed flesh behind a large cardboard box with several sex toys inside, pink and purple and green bits poking their heads out of the top.

She slammed the door with a squeak of embarrassment. Not the center door, then. Marianne tried the one to the left, and luckily this was just the mild green and white tile of the bathroom. After relieving herself she went to wash her hands and face, get the grime off her, only to see a violent pink dildo in the sink. _Seriously?_ She decided to clean herself in the kitchen.

“Hey there, stranger. Sleep well?”

“Um, I guess. Sorry,” muttered Marianne in a daze, shuffling into the room where the delicious egg smell came from.

“It’s fine. You don’t really seem that awake,” the owner of the voice said, presumably Hilda’s roommate Claude. He was wearing a ratty gray tee and black athletic shorts with fuzzy pink slippers. _Did Hilda get those for him?_ Marianne thought.

“I’m not. There’s, um, something in the bathroom, so I’m gonna use the sink.”

Claude let out a heavy sigh. “Hilda leave another one in there? I told her to stop doing that. Knock yourself out,” he said, pointing a spatula to the sink. “Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds heavenly right now. Just black, please.”

After she refreshed herself and sat down at the small table, Claude set down a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee for Marianne. She took a tentative bite. Marianne closed her eyes as she savored one of the best scrambled eggs she had ever had, with bits of sausage and onion, just the right amount of cheddar, and lightly spiced with curry. “Christ, this is good.”

“Ha! Thanks. I’m Claude, by the way. You must be the girl from Aunt Judy’s place,”

“Aunt… Judy?”

“Yeah, you know, Golden Deer, adoptions and vet? Married to your boss?”

“Oh,” Marianne said, stuffing another fork of eggs in her mouth, hoping they would cover the silence. What was she supposed to say to that?

Claude nodded, looking at Marianne expectantly. “And you are?”

“Um, sorry. Marianne. I’m Marianne.”

Claude took a sip of his own coffee. “Nice to meet you. Hilda’s been really excited this week but I did _not_ expect to see you this morning.”

Marianne gave a small chuckle. “I didn’t really expect to be here. She’s… nice.”

“That’s a word that some might use to describe my roommate.”

“Excuse me, pretty boy, I’m _plenty_ nice,” Hilda said, rounding the corner, “and thank you for the compliment, Marianne.” She was at least somewhat more decent, wearing a pink (of course) sports bra and black boxers, and the same kind of pink fuzzy slippers that Claude had. Marianne had a hard time keeping her eyes off her toned abs. Muscles didn’t usually do much for her but Hilda made them look _good._

“Oh, good morning, Hilda,” Marianne said into her coffee, trying to hide the fierce blush.

“Hey, Hil, you _forgot_ something last night,” Claude said, and added scrunching his face, “in the sink.”

“What?” she replied, “ _Oh,_ fuck, sorry.” Hilda turned on her heels and disappeared.

Claude let out a big laugh and got up to plate Hilda’s eggs and pour her a cup of coffee that ended up having an alarming amount of sugar and cream added. Hilda popped back into the kitchen, grabbed the plate of eggs, sat next to Marianne, and drank half the cup of coffee.

“So, did you sleep well?”

“Hung over, back hurts, legs hurt, neck hurts,” Marianne listed with her fingers.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay. When I woke up, I got a nice view of you half out of your bed because I was too drunk to remember which door was the bathroom.”

“Like what you see, babe?” Hilda flirted, despite her cheeks flaring up.

Marianne pressed on. Like her abs, Hilda made the blush look _good._ “Perhaps you could show me again more on our next date.”

Hilda gave her more of the delicious blush. “Well, you’re in high spirits.”

“What can I say, I think pink might be my new favorite color.”

_“Marianne!”_

Marianne giggled, hiding behind her coffee again. “Now you know how I felt last night. You were relentless.”

“Was I?” Hilda asked, face one of such exaggerated confusion, she almost looked like she was pouting. “Am I really like that, Claude?”

“Girl, you’ll flirt with anything with nice tits. I’m not getting involved. I remember last time you tried to roll me into one of your flings and I do _not_ want a repeat experience,” he said, getting up and clearing his dishes.

“You think I have nice tits?” Marianne asked, eyebrows crawling up her head.

“God, what did I do to deserve this treatment?” Hilda said, exasperated.

“You left a dildo in the sink. With a guest over. That you took on a date.” Claude said.

“Fine, whatever. I get enough of this shit from Holst, I don’t need you two on my ass as well.”

Marianne held back one last comment because Hilda seemed like she might be legitimately upset, but it had been a lot of fun teasing her like this. Hilda and Marianne finished their eggs and coffee.

Hilda got up, leaving her dishes on the table. “I’m gonna get ready. You’ll be ready soon?” said Hilda, heading out of the kitchen. Marianne nodded.

“And yes, you do have nice tits, Bluebell.”

* * *

The early morning chill burned off as the sun peeked out behind thinning clouds on the trip from Hilda’s apartment to Golden Deer. Marianne felt her bravado leave as soon as she stepped outside the apartment, and reality of the previous evening and night settled over her. Hilda, for her part, was mostly quiet as well. She tried to drum up some conversation on the ride, but Marianne felt that old inadequacy as a poor conversation partner come in full force.

Hilda parked her ugly pink sedan next to Dorte during the latest in an ever growing length of awkward silences.

“So,” Hilda began, nodding her head, “here we are.”

“I suppose so,” said Marianne lamely. She sat there for a moment, feeling like there was more she should say, more she should do, but drew a blank. Marianne regretted trying to call this a date. Hilda was fun, and pretty, and many other things, but she had known her for all of one night.

“Yep.”

“Hilda…“ Marianne started, not thinking of the words that were to follow. She looked at Hilda, making eye contact.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to act like I didn’t fuck up, because I know I did,” Hilda said, her voice wobbling with emotion. Seeing the lack of comprehension on Marianne’s face, she continued, “It was… an impulse. I overstepped some boundaries I absolutely should not have. I’m sorry. Don’t feel like you need to contact me again.”

“Ex-excuse me?” Marianne asked, hurt and confused. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Marianne, don’t do this. I’m a big girl, I know when I’ve really messed up. You don’t need to save face for me.”

“Hilda, I really don’t understand. What did you mess up?” Marianne asked, tears threatening to gather at her eyes. “Did… did I do something untoward when I was drunk last night?”

“God, no, you certainly didn’t, nothing we both didn’t ask for. Just some kisses after a _whole_ lot of flirting.”

“Right. I really don’t un—”

“I fucked myself, Marianne,” Hilda interrupted, breaking eye contact finally, “to you. Dildo, sink, you know?”

Marianne was quiet for nearly a full minute before she said, “Oh.”

“Yeah. So, like. You can just… go. I’ll get out of your life.”

“Don’t do that.”

It was Hilda’s turn to be confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Um, I’m very flattered you… had such thoughts about me. Nothing worse than what I was dreaming of, I assure you. I know I lost my nerve when we left but I really did mean what I said this morning. You’re nice. You’re pretty. And, um… hot. And interesting. I liked the attention a lot. I wouldn’t mind more.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s some scumbag shit I pulled, and you wouldn’t have even found out if I had been less of a fucking horny bitch.”

“Please, Hilda. We’re both adults. You didn’t even _do_ anything. I won’t let you goad me into being angry about this because I’m just _not._ ”

“Well, fine. I can accept you’re not mad with me as long as you’ll accept that you can’t stop me from beating myself up over it.”

A bit of the confidence she felt earlier had crept back in, now Marianne knew why Hilda had been so stiff on the ride over, and thought just a little teasing was in order to keep the mood light. “Thank you. I really would like that second date, you know. It would be devastatingly awkward if we kept this up and made out next weekend, when I take you to a movie.”

Hilda finally cracked a smile, turning to look at her once more. “You’re really something, Bluebell.”

“ _And,_ since this is a date, I believe there’s one last thing you need to do.”

Hilda looked genuinely nonplussed.

Marianne got out of the car and retrieved her bag, poking her head back in through the window. “I want you to kiss me, you big dork.”

“ _Oh!_ Right, yeah, first date, kissing, cool, got it,” Hilda said, almost tanging herself in the seatbelt in her haste to get out of the car. Marianne let out a clear laugh at just how flushed and flustered Hilda was. It sent a pleasant shiver down her spine to see the other woman respond like that. _I did this,_ she thought, _and she thinks I’m beautiful. I haven’t been called that since Mercie and I were dating in high school._ Marianne felt powerful.

After depositing her bag in Dorte’s sidecar, she turned around and gave Hilda a tight hug. “This has been wonderful, Hilda. I really mean that.”

Hilda shied away from the sudden embrace before returning it. “I’m glad I took a chance on asking you out.”

“I _knew_ it, you wanted this to be a date the whole time.”

“Well, yeah, but also I really am grateful for your help last week. I was minutes away from a full breakdown and everything. You saved me from that. So, Bluebell, are we going to do this first date kiss thing or…?”

Marianne broke the hug and took Hilda’s hands in her own. She hadn’t really realized how much shorter Hilda was than her without her devastating heels, almost half a head. Hilda looked her in the eyes, pulling her hands away to put them gently around her neck, pulling Marianne down just a bit to show she was in charge.

This kiss was soft and slow, unlike the two more heated kisses from the previous night, yet it certainly got Marianne’s pulse running much quicker. She could feel herself uncomfortably hard in her panties at the softer, sensual touches, something that was a rarity these past few years. Marianne groaned a little at the sensation, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“Oh, that’s a nice sound. I like that one, Bluebell,” Hilda mumbled into her lips.

Marianne broke off the kiss because she couldn’t stop giggling. Hilda probably thought she was the reason behind it, and technically she wasn’t wrong either. “Um, I’ll text you when I pick something out for us. Hope you don’t mind riding in the sidecar next weekend.”

Hilda got back into her ugly pink sedan. “Sure thing, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am gay.


	3. Ladybird

When her parents died and she was beside herself with grief, wrapped in her dad’s leather jacket, she slept on the floor next to Dorte, in her uncle’s garage. Her dad had not taken good care of him. She would talk to Dorte like he was the horse her great grandpa loved, part machine, part animal. For a number of years, Dorte was her confidant.

“Dorte, are you going to be a good boy for my next date?” Marianne asked her motorcycle. Dorte did not respond, not that Marianne had expected or even wanted him to.

It was a habit now, nearly fifteen years later. Talking to Dorte calmed Marianne, helped her center her thoughts. He was, in some respects, her best friend, if a motorcycle could be called a friend.

“I’m glad you’ve forgiven me for putting this thing on you,” she cooed, running her fingers along Dorte’s sidecar, “but I think it’s time it stopped being Mercie’s.” Mercedes, her first girlfriend, right after she had come out, bought it with her so they could ride together. She had not been happy about it at the time, because Dorte was an incarnation of her grief, but she was also desperately in love with Mercedes. Marianne would have done anything for her. She almost _had_ done anything for her.

Over the years, however, the sidecar simply became a part of Dorte, just like how her project to restore him helped her shed her grief. Dorte was simply just… Dorte. There was always something to do on him, some little repair, some new thing to replace, some grime to clean, and on the exceptionally rare occasion there wasn’t, she just liked to spend time riding him around out of the city, around the hills and farmlands, even to the beach for the weekend if Golden Deer wasn’t particularly busy.

“Hey, Dorte, do you think Hilda would like my birds?” she asked. Marianne told Hilda she was allowed to practice with her uncle’s machining tools, but left out a truth she felt rather embarrassed by. Marianne did help fabricate small fixes, sometimes, but often she cut pieces of metal to fashion them into small bird sculptures. It was a relatively new hobby, something she picked up since starting classes in earnest, but she had twenty or so of them in her room. Some sat on her bookcase, some sat at the small desk where she used her laptop, a few of them were pinned near the couch she used as a bed. Half of the bird sculptures, the ones she liked the most, hung from her window. The birds reminded her of her childhood in the suburbs, where the nearby park and pond was a haven for them.

“Yes, she probably would. I should make her one this week. What do you think?” Dorte remained silent as ever. “Good talking with you, buddy. Don’t go getting too dirty on me, okay? I want to get you nice and shiny for this weekend and _not_ be too much of a sweaty mess after.”

* * *

Thursday was a good day for Marianne. She had been sending friendly (and a little flirty as well) texts with Hilda throughout the week, and they had just settled on a time and place. She was going to pick up Hilda after work and take her across town to Black Eagle Filmhouse, where they would watch… something. She hadn’t got that far, but Hilda seemed to want to be surprised anyway.

She had also just sent Helena a DM on Twitter asking if she could reserve one of the small rooms just for her and Hilda. Black Eagle Filmhouse was run by an acquaintance she had met through a transgender support group, Helena Vestra. They were not exactly friends, but she often chatted with her when she brought in her gigantic golden lab, Edie, and would often complain about mainstream film trends or the endless series of awful women she met through dating apps. _Everyone wants a big titty goth GF, but no one asks how the big titty goth GF is,_ she had said more than once.

Thursday is also when she was putting the finishing touches on Ladybird, her latest sculpture. She kept thinking of how _Bluebell_ was a cute nickname for her, and how every time it rolled off Hilda’s lips, Marianne had heated up with pleasure. She wanted something to call Hilda, because Pink just didn’t _work_ like that. Marianne didn’t even have a cute story like the one behind Bluebell, and she wasn’t even _really_ calling her Ladybird yet, just this small bundle of metals, interlocked and soldered and lightly painted a warm pink with a cool violet inking in the cracks. That was Ladybird. Maybe Hilda being Ladybird was later.

* * *

Saturday, she was in the break room of Golden Deer with Manuela and her wife Judith, all of them having lunch. Today had been relatively heavy in the morning, so they had pushed back their break to after appointments. Manuela looked exhausted, and she couldn’t blame her. It had been a rough morning with Judith even helping out occasionally.

“So, um, Manuela, what’s the schedule going to look like tomorrow?” Marianne led, taking a bite of the dry chicken that she put in her salad.

Manuela replied, motioning with a spoon, “I’m not sure what you mean, darling. Schedule’s right over there.”

Judith looked appraisingly at Marianne, and then to her wife. “Mari’s got a hot date tomorrow.”

Marianne nearly choked on a chunk of chicken. Judith had always been scarily good at reading people, and sometimes forgot because she didn’t have much reason to be on the receiving end of that particular knack.

“Oh, is that so? Tell me more,” Manuela replied with a predatory smile and primly arched eyebrows. Manuela was a terminal gossip and loved to talk about her clients’ personal lives. Together, they were simply terrifying.

“Um. Well. She’s the girl whose car I jumped two weeks ago. She took me out to dinner as thanks last weekend but… I like her. I think she likes me too.”

“Is this girl a _client_?” Manuela asked, a mild tone blanketing the hunger for gossip that ran a heat under her words.

“No, but she did pick up for one. That shorthair, Lorenz, that ate the cables.”

“You’re going on a date with Hilda?” Judith interrupted before Manuela could get another question off. “No, absolutely not. You are _not_ going on a date with that hussy.”

“ _Judith,_ ” Marianne pleaded. She had forgotten how Claude mentioned Golden Deer and Aunt Judy.

“That woman is bad news. Claude tells me about how she sleeps around. I don’t want that for you, Marianne. You’re too good for that.”

Manuela’s smile grew from predatory to downright sinister. “Oh, honeybear, what’s the harm? Marianne’s a big girl. She can handle it, can’t she?” Manuela said, turning slowly between Judith and Marianne.

As much as Manuela’s behavior worried her, she knew she was arguably more protective of Marianne than Judith was, even if she happened to be an occasional poor judge of character. She had also spoken the magic word that could make Judith do anything she wanted, _honeybear._ Marianne had seen this happen enough over the past year that all three of them knew it was just a matter of time until Manuela had her way, and this meant that Marianne would be getting the whole day off. It would just take several hours of Judith putting up a protest and Manuela buttering her up before it happened.

* * *

Marianne found herself entirely free on Sunday. This was a problem, because she had about eight hours more time with which to wind up her nerves, casting endless _what if_ s over her mind, and she could only get Dorte so perfectly clean before she found herself with several hours and nothing to do.

Her phone rang, the number unfamiliar. Usually, anything not already registered in her contacts went to mail, but a call, even someone trying to phish her, would be a welcome distraction, so Marianne picked up. “Hello?”

“Ah, Miss Marianne, this is Helena Vestra at Black Eagle Filmhouse. I hope this morning is treating you pleasantly,” said Helena in her usual darkly melodious tones.

Marianne was shocked. “Helena? How did you get my number?”

Helena let out a warm chuckle, and ignored her question. “I am calling about your request to book one of my private screening rooms. I apologise for not returning your message earlier.”

“Um, thank you, but why didn’t you respond online?”

“The room is yours, under the condition that I get to choose the film for your date. I would not tolerate you to view… something you could find elsewhere. Since you chose Black Eagle, you certainly wish to make use of my extensive knowledge of the better aspects of cinema, and not because my screening rooms are cozy, intimate, and _private._ If this is not an acceptable condition, you’re free to purchase tickets to one of my regular showings when you arrive.”

A little stroking of Helena’s ego would help smooth things over. Marianne said, “Actually, that would be more than acceptable. If I am being honest, I wasn’t exactly prepared. I know you only show the finest cinema, Helena, so I had just planned on seeing whatever showing was the nearest to our arrival.”

“Wonderful. I’ve got just the film for you. You’re going to _love_ it, Miss Marianne,” said Helena, her voice dripping with tension. Marianne heard Edie give a soft wuff in the distance. “Ah, and Edie says hello.”

* * *

She texted Hilda that she was outside her apartment, and waited, leaning on Dorte’s sidecar. Marianne realized with some alarm that she had honest to god _butterflies_ in her stomach. The burbling energy pulsed and tingled its way to her toes and fingers, and she wanted to bounce around on the balls of her feet and shake her hands out, but she also didn’t want to look like a goof in front of her date. Hilda probably wouldn’t have minded, but Marianne _did_ mind.

Instead, she looked at her Ladybird sculpture. Marianne had wanted to maybe keep it as a surprise for the end of the date, but she also knew enough about herself that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her time with Hilda unless this was over. She didn’t even bother wrapping it, because that thought had only occurred to her when she pulled up and took it out of the sidecar’s storage.

“Hey there, Bluebell.”

Marianne snapped her head up to see Hilda exceptionally close to her. She had not noticed the woman arrive. Her sunglasses screened her pretty eyes, casting them pink. Marianne suppressed an urge to take them off. “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” she said, the butterflies causing her voice to wobble with nerves.

“Make a habit of that and I might have to do it on purpose. You’re really cute when you’re all surprised like that.”

“Flirt,” Marianne accused.

“Guilty,” Hilda admitted, giving Marianne a quick kiss on the cheek, before her face split into a wide grin and stepping back. “So, what’s that in your hands? Gotta be something good if it distracted you from _this,_ ” she finished, pointing at herself with her thumbs.

“I, um, I made this for you,” said Marianne, her voice even more wobbly with nerves than before. She handed Hilda the sculpture. “Her name is Ladybird.”

“Marianne…”

“I hope you like her.”

In response, Hilda threw her arms around Marianne, trapping her arms. “She’s wonderful, Marianne,” Hilda whispered in her ear.

Marianne tried her best to return the hug, but only succeeded in awkwardly patting Hilda on her hips.

“Hey, could I run up and put her in my room? I don’t want to lose or damage her while we’re on our date.”

“Of course. We’re not in a hurry.”

Hilda gave a quick thanks and jogged back to her apartment building. _I knew it, she_ does _have a nice ass,_ Marianne mused, heat coiling in her veins. She was wearing tight black jeans and a warm purple hoodie with white stripes running down the arms, and a pair of violent pink and black sneakers. Marianne knew that, whatever else happened tonight, she would absolutely be peeling off those jeans in her dreams tonight.

* * *

“That was _so_ fucking cool,” Hilda said breathlessly as Hilda killed Dorte’s engine. Her voice was muffled by the helmet Marianne had given her to wear.

Marianne laughed. “I’m relieved that you enjoyed the ride. I admit, I was kind of nervous asking you to ride on Dorte. I haven’t had a, um… a passenger in a long time.” She helped Hilda up and out and got to work securing their helmets and locking up the sidecar.

“I sense there’s a story behind that but you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Um, it’s fine, just a little embarrassing. When I inherited Dorte from my dad, he didn’t have a sidecar. I actually bought it with my first girlfriend when we were still in high school.”

“Are there any _saucy stories_ that go along with the sidecar?” Hilda said in a teasing voice.

“Ah, no, I was really just figuring stuff out at the time. There _aren’t_ any saucy stories with Mercie, unless you count a lot of chaste kisses and holding hands.”

“Hey now, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure plenty of girls get off to that stuff,” Hilda said, dropping the teasing.

They walked over to the little rundown shopping area that housed Black Eagle Filmhouse. She had only been here once before, right after she met Helena. That was almost a date as well, but they realized quickly they didn’t have much in common or really any chemistry. Helena replied to the DMs from earlier and told them to just ask for her when they arrived, and they were led in by a short, shy girl that looked like she was trying to hide her entire body in an extremely oversized ratty gray hoodie.

The inside of Black Eagle Filmhouse was all muted lighting and quaint decorations with blood red detailing, like someone dipped a Rococo waiting room in midnight and crimson.

“Ah, you have my thanks, Bernadetta,” said as Helena rose from one of the ostentatious black and red chairs that punctuated the space, back to Marianne and Hilda. The girl quickly dashed behind Helena and held her waist, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide behind the beanpole of a woman. Helena wrapped her arms around Bernadetta’s shoulders and placed a kiss on her head. “You can head back to the ticket cave, okay?”

“Oh, fuck me,” Hilda whispered next to Marianne, low enough that it probably wasn’t even for Marianne’s ears.

Helena turned around as Bernadetta dashed off back the way she came. She was as beautiful as ever, with a full length blood red dress and black cardigan with roses embroidered down the sleeves.

“Ah, good to see you, Marianne,” she said, then looking at her date, continued with an icy venom she only ever heard when Helena talked about her disastrous dates. “Good to see you as well, _Hilda._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no marianne what did you find yourself in the middle of?
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am gay.


	4. The Cuddle Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a NSFW chapter!
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter  
> \- Past bullying and transphobia  
> \- Discussion of death  
> \- Discussion of abuse

“Um, do you two know each other?” Marianne asked, fear coiling in her stomach.

“You could say that. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Marianne,” said Helena archly. Her scowl could have cut her clean in half, Marianne decided, but Hilda was made of tougher stuff than she was.

“I’m not that person anymore. I’m… trying to be better, now.”

“I’m sure you are. Out of respect for Marianne and all she’s done for Edie, I will restrain myself, and show you two the lovely time you _could_ have had with me.”

“I’m sorry. I left you in a really shitty place,” Hilda said. Hilda forced herself to look at Helena, drew herself up, and nodded before lowering her gaze to the floor.

“Helena, please…” Marianne pleaded.

Helena continued on, ignoring her. “I am a woman of my word, unlike some pretty pink girls I knew.”

“ _Stop,_ ” Marianne demanded. “You two clearly have some history, but Hilda and I are on a date. You said you would restrain yourself, Helena. I expect you to do so. Whatever else you are, I know you to be professional. _Act_ like it.”

Marianne didn’t know where the anger came from, but once it started, she couldn’t contain it. How _dare_ Helena needle her date with passive aggressive snipes about their history. And Hilda wasn’t fighting it at all. Her head bowed in shame, her voice was tightly controlled and neutral, and her posture looked like she was ready to bolt. But she stayed—for Marianne.

Helena noticed Marianne as if for the first time. She collected herself and let out a deep breath through her nose. “My apologies. I forgot myself. Please, follow me, ladies.”

Hilda let out a shaky breath and looked like she might collapse on the spot. Marianne grabbed her arm and linked it with her own. She ran what she hoped to be a reassuring rub on Hilda’s upper arm, finishing with a light squeeze. She realized this is exactly how she felt when she tried to calm frightened and anxious pets. Perhaps… that is for the best. Hilda is not an animal, obviously, but Helena had certainly been chastising her like an unruly dog.

“Um, are you okay? We can leave if you want. I don’t mind,” Marianne said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice at the prospect of leaving and spending less time with Hilda.

“Nah, I deserved that. Worse than that, actually. Let’s just… have a nice time, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Marianne said, leading Hilda.

* * *

“I can’t believe they fucking left ship behind. Like, _hello?_ How are you going to get off the moon?”

“They didn’t know there were people on the moon. Though, I guess that’s how they kept getting up there. That rocket graveyard scene was really neat,” Marianne said thoughtfully, shading her eyes from the evening sun coming in through the doors.

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock their car! Especially in a place they don’t know. _I_ would lock my car if I took you to the moon.”

“Oh, is the moon our next date?” Marianne said playfully.

“Hmm… I don’t think so, Bluebell. Might be people up there. Also don’t think we could afford the gas.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Hilda grabbed Marianne’s hand when she opened the door out of Black Eagle. Hilda had held her hand through most of the movie, an old black and white horror movie about a society of women on the moon that ate men. It was so campy that it was endearing. She had to give Helena credit, it was a lovely film for a lesbian date, because there was a _lot_ of sapphic tension between the moon queen and the captain of her guard. She got very handsy with her charge in nearly every scene they shared. At first, a lot of the touching was tentative and reserved, but Marianne was sick of the burbling jealousy she felt towards the moon queen and her captain, and practically dragged Hilda across the couch to lean against her.

Helena was nowhere to be found, but Bernadetta was still in the ticket booth. Her hood was down, showing messy shoulder length brown hair with purple highlights and thick glasses on a short nose that made her eyes huge. She gave them a small wave with a stick of charcoal in her hand, smiled, and pushed up her glasses leaving a smudge of charcoal dust on her nose. If Bernadetta cared or even noticed, she didn’t show it. Marianne thought that she was terribly charming like that. She was glad for Helena. She deserved to finally find a girl that could put up with her.

For all her flirty bravado, Hilda seemed to be hesitant to make any physical moves. She gladly followed any lead Marianne gave, but never took initiative. It gnawed at the back of her mind through most of the movie, several pieces of information slotting together that she wished she remained ignorant of. Claude had said that she was Hilda’s latest fling. Judith accused her of sleeping around—again, information from Claude. But Helena’s accusation was the key conversation. Hilda was probably a bit of a player in her past. She imagined Helena was not the first or last woman that Hilda had slept with and left behind or otherwise hurt.

Even after all that, Marianne found herself fond of the small, bubbly pink woman. Her forward attitude was charming, and Marianne loved the attention she gave. Also, less important, she was intensely attractive. Well, maybe a bit more than _less important_ —Marianne might be a loner but she was also terminally gay.

Marianne set about getting Dorte ready and gave him a reassuring pat on the seat. “Were you a good boy while we were gone?” Dorte responded with comfortable silence. She handed Hilda her loaner helmet and got ready to put on her own. Marianne realized that she hadn’t actually planned this far. A quiet _um_ was all she could get out, looking at Hilda.

Hilda must have realized she felt lost. “Hey, do you wanna grab some burgers and head back to my apartment for dinner? Claude won’t be there, it’s just us.”

“More of your brother’s?” Marianne said. She meant it mostly in jest but she wouldn’t mind having some more of Holst’s food someday.

“God, no, that was stupid of me to bring you there. I love Holst but he teases me about every girl I da—” Hilda froze, eyes wide, locked on Marianne’s feet.

Marianne recovered for her, hoping to keep the tone light. “Spending an evening in with you and some greasy meat sounds lovely.”

“Marianne, I—” Hilda started in that controlled neutral tone she used when apologizing to Helena.

“Let’s talk about that later, okay? Burgers first.”

* * *

They sat on Hilda’s couch with the remains of a bag of the cheapest, nastiest burgers Hilda could find on the way home between them. Hilda surprised Marianne by putting away five of them to her own one and a half, before declaring herself stuffed beyond belief, then wiggling her eyebrows at Marianne.

The TV blared some reality drivel that apparently Claude loved, but Marianne hadn’t paid a single second of attention to it once they sat down. She doesn’t think she could have paid attention to it if she wanted to. Instead, her mind was focused on the soft grunts of pleasure as Hilda ate her food, and wondering if that’s what she sounded like last week when she touched herself to thoughts of Marianne. Focused on the fact that Hilda had only wore a (pink, of course) sports bra under her hoodie and she had very casually taken it off when she got home before flopping on the couch, and that her lightly toned abs were much more noticeable at this angle, hunched over and sidelong. Marianne let out a slow breath, spending what little brainpower she had on keeping it steady.

“Bluebell, you want something to drink?”

“Do you have any wine?” said Marianne.

Hilda rubbed her neck, and looked away. “I was, ah, thinking more along the _water or soda_ variety, actually…”

“Um, sorry. Water would be lovely.”

Hilda got up and headed toward the kitchen. “It’s not that I think getting a little buzzed with you wouldn’t be fun but, ah, I… shouldn’t. We should probably have that talk, if we’re going to be doing this more.”

Marianne just nodded her head, steeling herself for a tone shift. Hilda returned with a glass of ice water and a can store brand root beer. Marianne patted the center of the couch and Hilda sat next to her. She found Hilda’s hand and urged her to lean over, less insistent than she was during the movie. This was an invitation, not a demand. Hilda gave a sad smile and leaned on Marianne.

“Um, Hilda, before we start, can I say something?” Marianne asked tentatively.

“Sure thing, Bluebell.”

“Are you letting me down easy or something? If that’s what this is, I don’t want it.”

“What? No. If I was going to do that, why would I be here cuddled next to you all vulnerable and shit,” Hilda said, her voice trailing into a pitiful mumble at the end.

Marianne let out a puff of relief. “Good. I would really be upset if that was what this serious talk was.”

Hilda continued, the now-familiar controlled neutral delivery, “I have a problem with drinking. I’m not an alcoholic or anything but… I’m a handsy, pushy, thirsty drunk, and it’s got me in a lot of trouble. I don’t wanna do that anymore. Not to you or anyone.”

She stopped, and looked up for a response. “I see.”

“Marianne, when you stood up for me today in front of Helena… no one has ever done that for me before, not like that. Not since before I stopped being a party girl. Used to be I could make men come to blows over me, break up loving couples with some catty winks and crocodile tears. And I loved it. I loved the feeling of power I had over them. I did and said a lot of fucked up things to people.” Hilda’s voice was now thick with emotion, and Marianne could feel her tense and shaking against herself.

Marianne gave Hilda’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “That was kind of what I had gathered. I’m glad I stood up for you, though. I saw how sincere you were with Helena. You just… took it. I can respect that. Mind if I ask what changed?”

“My grandpa died last year. One of the last things we did was fight about how much of a bitch I am. He said he didn’t care if he couldn’t have grandkids before he croaked, he just wanted me and Holst to be happy. I was… It took a lot of self reflection and confronting ugly truths about myself to realize what I was doing to other people.”

“And yet, here you are, Hilda, newfound boundary respecter,” Marianne said, her own voice awash with affection.

“So, um, yeah. No drinking, at least not for a while, and definitely not enough to get drunk.”

“Feel better?” Marianne asked.

Hilda gave her a dry chuckle. “Yeah, actually.”

“I’ve been in therapy for years and I find that sometimes the best release is just talking about it.”

“You feel like sharing? Not that you need to or anything, I just thought since we’re doing the _guard down_ thing that… you know. Bonding and stuff.”

“You sure? My story is kind of sad and there’s no guarantee you won’t be sobbing in sympathy when I finish.”

“Um, tonal whiplash?”

“Heh, sorry, just…” Marianne trailed off, and she cleared her throat before continuing, “My parents died fourteen years ago in a car crash. I was supposed to be in the car with them, but I thought it was better to instead skip school that day because some girls tormented me for being trans. I had planned on taking all the pills I could find in the house when I got the call from the police. Um, yeah. That’s me.”

Hilda twisted next to her to look Marianne in the eyes for a moment. She wondered just what expression was on her own face. Hilda’s dusty blonde eyebrows were knitted in consideration as her eyes fell to look over Marianne’s face, lingering on her lips. She wanted to kiss Hilda, but it probably would have ruined the moment.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I’m not sorry for the person you used to be, and I don’t want you to be sorry for who I used to be. It took me a long, _long_ time to get over that but now… I just want to move forward. Finally help my uncle after taking care of me all these years. Stop living in the shadow of my trauma.”

Hilda didn’t say anything for a while, instead wiggling herself closer to Marianne.

“Hey, Bluebell, not to prove you right or anything but I kind of feel like crying right now. It’d be a shitty move to follow through on your defensive humor but, ah…”

“It’s okay. What are friends-with-sexual-tension for if you can’t get vulnerable and cry together.” Marianne’s face felt hot, her sinuses tight with the threat of tears.

Hilda let out a small sob, followed by a pathetic giggle, then more sobs as she bunched up Marianne’s leather jacket in her hands. She got up and wandered off to her room and came back out with a case for her contact lenses, removed them, and then really let herself go.

* * *

It was dark out when the door to Hilda’s apartment opened and Claude walked in, flipping on the lights. He had a short boy with him, his arm around his shoulders. He wore round glasses and wispy blonde hair that looked like it had been dyed green at one point. They both had suits on. Marianne rubbed her eyes. She had been close to dozing off after Hilda cried herself to sleep in her arms.

“Oh! Marianne. I, uh, didn’t expect you to be here.”

Marianne put a finger up to her lips and shushed them. She said in a quiet voice, “Um, hello. Hilda’s asleep.”

“I see. Marianne, this is my boyfriend Ignatz. Iggy, this is Marianne.”

“Evening,” Ignatz said. He looked wary, turning his attention to Claude after a moment. They talked low enough that Marianne couldn’t understand what they were saying, but Ignatz kept glancing at her. It made her nervous.

She felt like she was intruding on their moment but the nerves forced her hand before the rest of her mind caught up. “You two are sure dressed nicely,” Marianne offered, breaking the very silence she asked for.

“Yeah, Iggy had a gallery showcase and I’m his plus-one.” Claude said. Ignatz nodded.

“Um, should I leave or…?” Marianne asked, dragging her eyes to the sleeping head of Hilda on her shoulder.

“Nah, we’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Just came home to get out of these suits before we go out clubbing. Not like I’d ever kick out Hilda’s guests, even if we were staying. You’re welcome here,” Claude said warmly.

“Um, sorry.” Marianne said out of habit.

Claude said something to Ignatz and he left to Claude’s room. “Listen, Marianne. I don’t know who you are to Hilda, but this has been the best week she’s had in a long time. You’re good for her. She’s been through a lot this year, so whatever you’re doing, I hope you keep doing it. I don’t want to lose my best friend again, okay?” He gave a sheepish grin before following his boyfriend.

Marianne nodded. She knew she was blushing fiercely. Marianne was good for Hilda? If anything, she felt the opposite was true, but after their heart-to-heart earlier, she couldn’t really say that Claude’s assessment was baseless. Perhaps they were both good for each other.

Hilda shifted on her and she took a deep breath. Marianne looked down but Hilda’s eyes didn’t open. If she wanted to pretend to be asleep, Marianne would not take that away from her. Marianne gently ran her thumb over Hilda’s knuckles. Just what were they, anyway? Friends, yes, and Marianne was definitely fond of her. She definitely wouldn’t mind something more intimate, but Hilda seemed content to just be whatever they were. Marianne would have to be the one to do anything if she wanted more.

Claude emerged from his room with Ignatz in tow. They were both wearing loose tops with lots of frills and tight jeans; Claude’s was a cool blue, breezy silk that had an intensely low cut, showing off a thin forest of curly dark hair, and Ignatz’s was a bright green, with a high neck and long sleeves. Marianne saw the faint traces of scars under Claude’s pecs. He gave her a knowing wink. They looked very handsome together.

“Will I see you when I get back tonight?” Claude asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. I wouldn’t mind staying again. I’m also, um… trapped,” Marianne said with a giggle, motioning with her chin to Hilda.

“You look pretty comfy for being trapped. Well, maybe see you later tonight or something.”

“Um, yes. Nice meeting you, Ignatz,” Marianne said.

“Yes. Pleasant evening to you and Hilda,” Ignatz said before disappearing out of the front door. Claude gave a wave of his hand and followed his boyfriend.

Marianne felt Hilda relax immediately once the deadbolt clicked. She made a soft sound, squeezing Marianne’s hand to let her know she was awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” she said.

Hilda yawned, stretched her limbs and sat up. “Comfy. You’re a good pillow, Bluebell.” Marianne giggled. “What Claude said… He isn’t wrong. This _has_ been the best week I’ve had in months. Hope that’s, like, cool with you.”

“I was thinking the same for me, actually. You’re… a very comfortable person to be around, Ladybird.”

_“Ladybird.”_

“What? Can I not have a nickname for you too?” Marianne asked. She felt a little silly, a little self conscious, but not enough to back down. It was something she thought a lot about while Hilda was crying with her.

Hilda nodded. “I… like it. Very _Marianne._ Not sure I’m much of a Ladybird though.”

“Well, I don’t very much feel like a Bluebell, but it’s cute when you say it.”

Hilda leaned back nuzzled her cheek into Marianne’s shoulder. Her stomach did little flips. This was the first time Hilda had done something like that without being led by Marianne. Hilda _wanted_ it, wanted to get close and touch her. She wasn’t holding herself back. Marianne felt full of affection for her friend, and perhaps more than a little desire.

“Marianne... can I ask you something?” said Hilda, and after Marianne nodded, she continued, “Do you want to spend the night with me?”

Marianne’s face flushed so hard it hurt. “Um. H-Hilda…”

“Shit. Too fast?” Hilda said, clearly upset with herself. She started to pull away.

Marianne grabbed her arm before Hilda got too far. “No. I’m flattered just… That’s, um, not something I had… prepared for, I guess?”

“ _Oh!_ No, no I mean _this._ Cuddling. I like this. It’s nice to just be close.”

“Um, sorry. I just… well, um… I th-thought that, um…” Marianne fumbled. She wondered if she was _that_ thirsty that she just misread their entire friendship. It hadn’t even been a week, and it was one nice evening and a bunch of texting before today.

“Is that a no on the cuddling, then? We could even do some kissing. You seemed to be _really_ disappointed when we stopped last weekend,” Hilda said with some of the flirty energy coming back Marianne enjoyed so much.

Marianne sighed in relief. “I think I would like that, Hilda.”

* * *

Hilda’s bed was almost too soft for her. Marianne could already feel a tight nub of pain that she would be paying for in the morning, not that she would be complaining about the price for what was going on. She had taken a shower and was lying in her bra and panties in Hilda’s bed, feeling intensely comfortable. Marianne hadn’t paid much attention to Hilda’s scent before now, but it was almost overpowering being so wrapped up in it. Intoxicating. Her head spun with it.

The rush of water stopped. Hilda was out of the shower. Marianne’s breath quickened. She didn’t expect herself to be so aroused beforehand, but now that she was in the middle of it, Marianne wondered why she ever doubted it. She had been perfectly aware of the kinds of dreams she had all week, and now Marianne was closer than ever to _being_ in one. She buried her face under the comforter to hide herself when Hilda walked in. She didn’t want her to see Marianne’s eyes blown out with desire.

Plunged into a pink-tinted darkness, nose drenched in Hilda’s scent, Marianne heard the door open. Hilda laughed and plopped down on the other side of the bed. “You having fun in there, Bluebell?”

“Um, maybe,” Marianne said sheepishly.

“I’m decent, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Marianne hadn’t been worried about it, but now she couldn’t get the idea of an _indecent_ Hilda out of her mind. Slowly, she poked her head out. Hilda was wearing black oversize tee and the same kind black boxers she saw her in last week. Her hair was rolled up in a towel, and she had tiny little glasses perched on the end of her nose. They looked very out of place.

“Um, hello. I’m, um, in your bed.”

“That you are. You, ah, still cool with all this? I don’t mind getting the blankets out for the couch again.”

“No! It’s, um, nice. Just, I didn’t expect to feel this… intimate.”

“I’m not even in bed yet, babe.” Oh, the way Hilda said _babe,_ said it about _Marianne_ sent fire through her veins. She wondered if Hilda even knew what she was doing to her. Part of her hoped she _did_ know exactly what she was doing, the part that latched on the idea of an indecent Hilda, the part of her that was drowning herself in Hilda’s scent. A smaller, more rational and unfortunately persistent part of Marianne explained to her libido that Hilda had called Marianne babe literally the day they met.

Hilda flipped off the overhead light, dipping the room in darkness. Marianne wasn’t prepared and gasped, filling her nose and mouth with more of Hilda’s heady scent. A surge of arousal found her halfway hard in her panties, and she could feel herself getting a little wet as well. Marianne hoped that she could keep herself under control.

Then the bedside lamp clicked to life, and Hilda slipped into the covers next to her. Marianne felt like it would be dishonest to hide herself now, as much as she wanted to. Hilda flopped her barely damp hair out of the towel and tossed it off the side, rolling over to face Marianne. Hilda ran the back of her fingers down Marianne’s jaw. “Hey there, beautiful. You sound like you’ve just run a marathon.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Only because I don’t know how else to be around the girl I have a huge crush on. That’s you, by the way, the girl I have a huge crush on. To be perfectly transparent about it. The girl who I have a huge crush on that I really, _really_ want to make out with. Are you picking up the hints I’m very skillfully laying down? You’re a smart girl, Blueb—”

Marianne couldn’t take it. She was all set to have a nice, calm, sexually frustrated sleep and Hilda went and _ruined_ it. Marianne pinned Hilda to the soft mattress and climbed over her hips, unable to keep herself from smiling in triumph. Hilda just _let_ her.

“This what you wanted, Ladybird? All you have to do is tell me to stop and I’ll stop, but I _really_ don’t want to stop.” Marianne’s breath was heavy and low.

“Yeah, this is more or less what I had in mind when I started winding y—”

She wouldn’t have any more of this. Marianne pounced on her face, taking Hilda’s bottom lip between her teeth and pulling hard. “Shut _up_ , brat,” Marianne growled.

Hilda smiled, slid her glasses off and tossed them vaguely in the direction of the bed stand without breaking eye contact. She ran her hands over Marianne’s back. The tips of her nails just barely scratched an itch Marianne didn’t even know she had. She whispered in Marianne’s ear. “Make. Me.”

She bit down on Hilda’s shoulder, hard enough that it was going to leave a beautiful bruise.

“Ahh, _fuck,_ that’s good, Bluebell. But if you haven’t noticed, I _am_ still running my mouth, and I’ll keep doing it until you _shut. Me. Up._ ”

Marianne growled again, deeper. She didn’t need to be told a third time. And really, Hilda had it coming. She kissed her hard. Hilda’s tongue was inside before she was expecting and Marianne had to suppress an urge to bite it. Instead, she fought back, trying to push Hilda back into her mouth. The pressure she offered with her tongue sent shocks of pleasure down her spine.

“You’re, like, _really_ aggressive,” Hilda whined, pushing Marianne off her.

“You got a fucking _point,_ brat?”

“Yeah, actually. I meant what I said. I don’t know how else to do this. Like, don’t get me wrong. You’re insanely hot and I would absolutely not mind doing… whatever this ends up as, but I just… want to be soft for a while. Sorry.”

Marianne felt herself deflate. Her breath turned from heavy to labored. Muscles that were once poised to strike became tense and awkward. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I… lost myself.”

“I think you reacted appropriately. Let’s agree that we’re both sorry and, like, get to the cuddling.”

“That would be nice. Um, I’m sorry for biting you without asking if that’s okay.”

Hilda giggled. “No, that was _great._ I kinda like it rough, usually. But this soft stuff, it’s new for me, ‘kay? And it’s… god, it’s so nice. We can talk about sex later, I _promise_ you. That’s absolutely on the table if you want it to be.”

Marianne flopped next to Hilda, bouncing the both of them slightly, and laughed. “We’re so hopelessly gay, aren’t we?”

“I like to think of myself as a hopeful gay.”

“What are you hoping for.”

“Oh, nothing much. Just some of this,” Hilda ran her hands down Marianne’s arm, “and some of this too,” resting her hand on Marianne’s hip, “and a little of this,” pulling herself flush, “and, perhaps most of all, a lot of this.”

Hilda placed a kiss on Marianne’s lips, warm and affectionate and light. Marianne leaned into her. There was none of the fire from before, but Marianne found herself fully, painfully hard within moments. The tender touches were much more intense than anything they had done before. She ached to take things further, but settled for a string of gentle kisses from Hilda.

Hilda hummed happily into Marianne’s lips. “I could get used to this, babe. You’re, like, really soft and you smell nice. I want to keep you around.”

Marianne opened her eyes to see Hilda’s light brown ones on her own. It was the first time she noticed that Hilda’s contacts had been colored to make her eyes more pink. “Hilda…”

“We can do the _what are we_ conversation tomorrow. I just… I really like you, Marianne. I know you like me too. Is that okay for tonight? Just… doing this?”

“Oh, um, yes, that’s perfectly fine, but, um… Before we keep moving on I need to, um, take care of myself. I’m a little painful and it’s rather distracting. Is the bathroom okay for that or…?”

“Mari _anne!_ ” Hilda giggled, “You don’t need to go anywhere, babe.”

“Oh, um, are… are you sure about that?”

“I know I’ve been sending some mixed signals or something but, I think it would be nice. Then we can do the cuddle thing with the sexual tension thing.”

“I’m not, um, sure how to go about doing that. With you here. You’re so close I could _touch_ you, and that’s fairly different than me pleasing myself in privacy.”

Hilda gave her a serious look. “Do you want me to… _help?_ ” she said as she ran her palm over Marianne’s thigh.

“Oh, um, _tha-a-at’s_ nice, Hilda, it really is, but I don’t think I can look at you while I—”

“Then roll over, and I can start the cuddling early. _Please._ ”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Ladybird,” Marianne said with a smile. She did as asked, and without Hilda’s warm brown eyes burning into her own, she felt herself release a tense breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Hilda grabbed her waist and scooted her back towards her, Pressing herself flush against Marianne’s back.

Hilda’s breath tickled Marianne’s neck and she said, “Yeah, I really do like this, okay? This is what I want tonight. I want you, in my arms, squirming because you’re so turned on by your very sexy friend—that’s me, Hilda—and I want to hear you please yourself while I touch you wherever you want me to.”

Marianne felt like she might die of embarrassment if she said _please grope my ass_ out loud, so instead she placed her hand over Hilda’s and slid it down her body. When she arrived at her butt, she pressed Hilda’s hand into it. The sensation was immediate and nearly had her finish on the spot.

“I can do that for you, Marianne. You’ve got a thing for nice butts, don’t you?” Hilda whispered into her ear, rubbing slow circles on her sensitive skin, “You were checking out Leonie on our first date, and I _really_ like it when you check out mine. I feel really hot when you do. Most people like my tits, which I can’t really blame them for. I like tits, too. But I’ve put a lot of work into my ass. It’s nice to be… appreciated,” she finished with a squeeze that sent Marianne’s hips bucking forward.

It took almost no time at all for Marianne to finish, which for her didn’t really mean much. A long time ago, orgasms were sudden and intense, but now they were just a pleasant, gentle rolling of sensation that started in her toes and fingers and converged in her center before dissipating.

She panted for a moment, leaned back into Hilda, and said, “Thank you.”

Hilda sounded stunned. “Wait, what, you’re done? It’s been, like, thirty seconds.”

“Hehe, yep. All done,” Marianne giggled.

“Is it always that fast?”

“Oh, god, usually it takes hours to get anywhere. _Buuut_ I had my very sexy friend here to wind me up. Also your bed smells, like, really good.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t done the sheets for a few weeks.”

Marianne said quietly, “Smells like you.”

“Ohh, I see.”

“You can, um, stop. It’s getting kind of ticklish,” Marianne said, glad she was facing away so Hilda didn’t see her blush.

Hilda stopped and for just a moment, Marianne wished she hadn’t, but she pulled herself flush again. “Feel better, babe?”

“Yeah, doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Hey, Marianne, can I ask you something before I turn off the light?”

“Of course.”

“Do you mind if I sleep with my top off?”

Marianne did not mind in the least, but at least let herself pause enough to not seem overeager before nodding.

“ _Thank you._ I thought I was gonna suffocate,” said as she flicked the lamp off. Marianne heard the sound of the top being removed, and then Hilda settled against her once more. Her skin was much warmer without the shirt between them.

Her libido sated for the night, Marianne felt supremely comfortable like this. How long has it been since she slept in someone’s embrace? Not since Mercedes. She had a few girlfriends since Mercedes but none of them were ever long term deals. Apparently something about a woman mechanic with loud dyed hair and an unkempt appearance seemed to drive the ladies up the wall, until they found out that aside from the fact that Marianne liked her sex rough, she was withdrawn and shy and small, and that’s not what they wanted from her.

Hilda was different, though. Hilda never wanted more than what Marianne was willing to give, and always let her have a clear way out. Hilda enjoyed the quiet and small side of her, liked being taken care of emotionally like that. Marianne hoped that when they have the _what are we_ talk tomorrow, Hilda would be on the same page as her. She very much would like to call Hilda her girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am gay.


	5. Two Heavy Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a NSFW chapter!

Just as she suspected, Marianne’s back was throbbing with a dull ache when she woke up. She was thankful that Hilda was not holding her in the otherwise very comforting tight grip she fell asleep in. Stifling a yawn, she stretched her arms, nearly elbowing Hilda in the face.

_Hilda._ Marianne smiled, gazing at her soft, sleeping face. Just how had she befriended this beautiful woman, who was funny and flirty and confident and kind to her. Even though their friendship was so young, Marianne knew that she was crushing really hard, and that feeling had gone for so, so long. It felt so nice to want someone for more than a few quick hook ups and drifting apart over a month.

Marianne scooted closer to Hilda. She was lying on her back, arms and legs spread wide. Using Hilda’s arm as a pillow, she snuggled close, draping her arm over Hilda’s torso. She felt the arm she was on curl around her shoulders.

“Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?” Hilda said without opening her eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake! I slept great, but my back hurts. My couch is way firmer than this,” replied Marianne. Indeed, the couch she slept on was little more than beat up cushions on flat wood.

“We’ll have to think about that when you come over again,” said Hilda, deciding for Marianne whether this was going to be a recurring thing, not that she minded. She would very much like to come back.

“I think I can deal with a little back pain once a week for you.”

“Mmm,” Hilda hummed in response, rubbing slow circles in Marianne’s back. They rested like that for a while. Marianne liked how Hilda was as relaxed as she felt herself. She nuzzled into Hilda’s shoulder, sighing with contentment. If the tightness in her bladder and the stabs in her lower back had anything to say about it, it would have to be short lived.

“Sorry. I gotta get up,” Marianne said, resigned. She pulled herself off Hilda and set about putting on her jeans and top from yesterday.

“Nah, that’s fine. I’m sure you need to head out soon. I need to get up anyway, I can smell Claude making coffee and I want to catch him for breakfast.”

“Actually, I don’t have anywhere to be, today. My classes are on Tuesday and Thursday, and my uncle will understand if I’m gone for the morning. I can stay for breakfast and a bit, if you like. We could have that talk.”

“Ah, right. That talk where I tell you I want to be your girlfriend?”

Marianne smiled while she finished putting on the last of her clothes. Of course Hilda would do that, just put her intentions right out there, no expectation of reciprocity. Not that she didn’t want the exact same thing. “Yeah, that one. I think you’ll be happy with how it turns out.”

When Marianne finished in the bathroom, she found Hilda was already in the kitchen, talking with Claude in low tones. His face was serious, and Hilda’s posture was stiff. Claude’s eyes flicked to Marianne, then back to Hilda. “Hello, Marianne. I did not expect to see you here when I came home this morning and you were not _on the couch._ I’ll make all of us some breakfast after I have a chat with Hilda, if you wouldn’t mind waiting out there.”

Marianne felt annoyed with Claude, who clearly imagined Hilda had fallen back into her old habits, despite just the night before saying that she was good for Hilda. She wanted to come to Hilda’s defense like before, but the warning look Hilda shot her over her shoulder told her that this wasn’t the time for that.

“If you want to get mad at me, you’ll do it in front of Marianne as well.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has _everything_ to do with this. Don’t talk about her like she’s not here.”

Claude closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Marianne. “I’m sorry. Take a seat. You okay with pancakes?” Marianne nodded, and he turned away to get busy.

She sat down with Hilda, and offered her hand for Hilda to hold. She was grateful that Hilda took it, threading their fingers together.

“Sorry you had to see that, Bluebell.”

“It’s fine. I should expect to see that sometimes if I’m going to be your girlfriend, being a reformed boundary respecter and all.”

Hilda’s eyebrows shot up, a smile creeping on her lips slowly. “Well, I guess we don’t need to have that talk?” she asked.

“I think we should still have _a_ talk about it, but not _that_ one. Yes, Hilda, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Hilda let the smile turn into a goofy grin. Her cheeks had the faintest blush on them. She pushed her chair closer until they were touching, then leaned over and kissed Marianne on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Claude made huffy sounds under his breath but instead just made pancake after pancake after pancake. Marianne just let herself wake up more, putting her chin in her hands and elbows on the table. Hilda ran her hand slowly over Marianne’s back.

“Breakfast is served, ladies,” Claude said stiffly, sliding a plate with a giant stack of pancakes on it in front of them, returning moments later with a set of plates and utensils for all three of them, as well as a plate of butter and a bottle of syrup, then a third time with three cups of coffee.

Claude didn’t say anything for the first few pancakes, silently appraising Marianne and Hilda, once the big stack was half gone he said, “So I heard what you two said. Girlfriends, huh?”

Marianne blushed and glanced at Hilda, and then said, “Yep.”

“Hilda, you told me to stop you if I ever thought you were doing that shit again.”

“I’m not. Promise,” Hilda said.

“I want to believe you. I really, really do,” said Claude. He turned his gaze to Marianne and continued, “How much do you know about Hilda’s past?”

Marianne felt irritation building behind her eyes and the base of her neck. “Hilda told me she used to sleep around. A bit of a homewrecker or something. I can’t say it doesn’t matter to me, because it does… but I also know she’s working past it. I’ve _seen_ her do it. I trust her.”

“What do you mean, _seen her doing it_?” Claude said incredulously around a cheek full of pancakes.

“Um, we ran into one of her… old partners yesterday. A woman by the name of Helena, who I also happen to know. She did good.”

Claude snorted, shook his head a little, ate another bite, and said finally, “Welcome to the family, I guess.”

“Excuse me? The family? Are you and Hilda related or…?”

Hilda spoke up, “I’ve known Claude for most of my life. He’s seen me through my worst and I’ve seen him through his worst. He’s as much of a brother to me as Holst is.”

Claude snickered. “Also I was her first girlfriend before, y’know,” he mimed scissors at his chest, “snip.”

“Yeah, that too.” Hilda said. She pulled Marianne’s hand into hers for a moment. “You’re better than he was, Bluebell.”

“Shame you didn’t turn out to be straight, we would have been _so_ awful for each other,” Claude said, throwing his head back and stretching out the _so_ for a few seconds.

Hilda rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk, you’re at least as gay as I am.”

“Got me there.”

They were both laughing and it did Marianne’s heart a lot of good to see Hilda and Claude get along after how serious the mood had been earlier. She hadn’t realized how tense she felt until the sounds carried away the tension in her shoulders and in her stomach. Claude’s wonderful pancakes surely helped too. Marianne felt happy like she hadn’t in a long time, happy with her place in life, with the people she knew.

* * *

Somehow, after Claude left the apartment, Marianne found nose in between Hilda’s breasts, soaking her cleavage with wet kisses. It seemed like a natural progression of affection at each stage. First, they sat down on the couch to cuddle for a while before Marianne left. Then, they added some roaming hands to it. After that, came light kisses. Heavier kisses. Hands went under clothes. Marianne went under Hilda. The clothes left their bodies, replaced with fingers and lips and skin. She hadn’t meant for it to go like this, but Marianne couldn’t deny that she hadn’t been hoping, at least a little bit, for it to get this intense.

The thing that was driving her wild, in fact, was how tender Hilda had been. There was something so incredibly sexy about being soft that Marianne had never wanted to explore before, letting herself be vulnerable with another woman like this. Hilda worked her artistry in soft touches, slow movements, and eye contact; she pulled Marianne along like a puppy instead of the beast she usually was in bed.

“Mari, please, more. I need more of you, Marianne,” Hilda whispered in her ear, close enough that the tips of her lips brushed against her lobes. Marianne was ready to climax right there if she let herself, ready to ruin her panties just for Hilda.

“I don’t have protection,” Marianne mumbled into the soft skin between Hilda’s breasts. “Sorry, Ladybird.”

“That’s, ah, fine. Not what I want, anyway. I want you in my mouth, Mari. Is that okay? Please, please tell me that’s okay. Please, I need to taste you,” Hilda panted in Marianne’s ear. She ran her tongue softly around the edge. “I held myself back last night but I can smell how wet are and _fuck_ you smell so fucking good. Please, I want you so bad, my sweet Bluebell.”

Just being _wanted_ like this was too much for Marianne, with everything else going on, and she felt her pleasure pool in her cock for a moment before releasing.

Marianne buried herself deep in Hilda’s cleavage. “Um, s-sorry Hilda, but I, um… I just came.”

“Oh my _god_ that is so hot. Can I at least clean you up?”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Why would I be? If you’re this easy to rile up I don’t exactly have to do a lot of work. So, is that a yes on the clean up, or…”

“Um, I guess.”

Hilda huffed out a sigh, and lifted herself up. Marianne tried, and failed, to stop herself from whining at losing contact with Hilda’s lovely cleavage. “No guesses here, Bluebell. I need a firm yes or it’s no by default.”

“Yes. Please… clean me up,” Marianne said as firmly as she was able, which didn’t feel like much. “Um, that’s really embarrassing to say out loud, huh?”

Hilda lowered herself back on Marianne and let out a low chuckle that she could feel run through her bones because Hilda pressed herself as close as she could to Hilda. “Not as embarrassing as the sounds you’ll be making soon. I’m going to pull every last drop of nectar out of you, my Marianne, my sweet Bluebell. You smell like the best sex I’m ever going to have, I can only imagine how you _taste_.”

Marianne could only continue to whimper. Hilda slid down her, placing kisses here and there, avoiding any spot that Marianne _wanted_ her to visit with her warm, firm mouth. No attention paid to her neck or collarbone or the dip between her breasts. No pressure on her sad, lonely nipples that ached with want. Marianne tried to shift under Hilda to focus her, but Hilda just shifted with her. She held Marianne’s hands down with the lightest of touches, somehow pinning her with careful pressure.

By the time Hilda close to her messy, soaked bulge, Marianne was once again so hard it hurt. Her poor cock hadn’t received a workout like this in years, but the ache was a delicious promise of the release to come. Marianne arched her back when Hilda buried her nose in the rolls of Marianne’s fat.

“My Marianne, my sweet, wonderful girl,” Hilda muttered reverently, her breath tickling the wisps of hair sticking out over her ruined panties, “I wanted to do this all last night, after you came then. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you said I smelled nice and then your scent was all I could think about before I fell asleep.”

Marianne was squirming under the attention. It was both too much and not enough. When she finally wriggled her hand free of Hilda’s light grip and placed it on her head, Marianne didn’t know if she wanted to pull her away or push her deeper. Hilda made the decision for her, using the newly free hand to pull her panties down.

The shock of cold air was but just a moment before she was in Hilda’s hand, the perfect size to cover her cock up completely, smothering it in her fingers. Hilda started to lick in the folds of Marianne’s body where her sweat and pre had pooled, and she groaned like she’s having the best meal of her life.

Marianne felt the tingles of another climax working its way up her arms and legs. “H-hilda, I’m, ah, close. I’m _re-e-eally_ close,” Marianne keened.

Without missing a beat, Hilda’s fingers were replaced with Hilda’s lips and Hilda’s tongue. Marianne heated up inside her girlfriend, her small cock easily wrapped up. Hilda rubbed her tongue along the bottom of Marianne’s head and the pressure and friction sent her over the edge faster than she expected. Unlike the climax of last night or the one this morning, this one felt like one from her youth, hard and dizzying with intensity.

Hilda, true to her word, kept Marianne in her mouth long after she had gone soft, milking all the nectar she could out of her Bluebell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally earning that _explicit_ rating.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am gay.


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